That guilt was because I was still learning the difference between hoping and needing. I was hoping my son would speak. As I’ve come to realize though, I didn’t need it.
That guilt was because I was still learning the difference between hoping and needing. I was hoping my son would speak. As I’ve come to realize though, I didn’t need it.
I may have helped, but his successes were about him doing it, not me teaching him.
It’s why my stomach gets knots. It’s why I come running.
Getting hurt is easy, not letting it change who you are isn’t.
In that hospital bed, the question of whether I would do anything for my kids was real.
Honestly, kids aren’t the ones who need to pen letters to Santa Claus anyway.
We all rushed to get here. When we did, it was electric bills and frozen waffles.
I’m ready for anything. I’m not excited about it. I’m not looking to have long talks about it. But I am prepared for it.
The scariest part was never about what he would or wouldn’t do.
I thought to myself, “Well, that was different. I guess that’s who I am now.”
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